The Kurtofsky Universe in One Word Prompts
by I Know You Gave Him The Bacon
Summary: A look into the Kurtofsky relationship from numerous angles. Each chapter brings a new story, each one based on a single word prompt. Ratings vary from story to story. Complete, as each fic is a single story. This will still be updated - not done yet!
1. Summer

**A/N: **Apologies for the terrible grammar/shortness in these stories. They will be small, brief, one-word prompts based on (or around) the Kurtofsky (Kurt Hummel/Dave Karofsky) couple. they are more for my own personal amusement than anything else, and a challenge to myself to see how much I improve over time. I am quite terrible, but these are meant to be short drabbles and nothing more. If I truly become inspired by a word or theme, there may end up being a longer fic, but it really does depend! If you would like to leave a review, or a word prompt of your own, I would be more than happy to give it a try! Also, the one word prompt will be the chapter of the title.

**These do not follow any logical or chronological order.** They could also take place in an Alternate Universe/Timeline, depending on what angle the story ends up taking. Please, treat each one as a separate story, unless otherwise started. I'm sorry for the very long authors note, but you made it! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

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**Prompt:** Summer

**Word Count:** 534

**Setting/Warnings:** Normal Glee universe, during Dave's school years. Mild fantasy about Kurt.

Ever since he was a child, Dave had always loved summer. He loved the hot days when he could just sprawl out in his back yard and look up at the bright, cloudless blue skies. He loved to close his eyes and just breathe in the smell of the soft grass tickling his cheeks, accompanied by the warm kiss of the sun on his face. Most of all, he loved how on those warm sunny days brought on the sudden urge for most of the students to start shedding their winter layers and breaking out like a butterfly trapped in a cocoon.

Of course, if the topic came around, Dave would always argue with the guys over which chick looked best in a miniskirt, or marvel at how some of the hotter girls could be so cruel as to cover their bodies in sweaters and long skirts even in the heat. His heart never really managed to get into it. At first, his lack of attraction was barely noticeable, even to himself. High school brought on cheerleaders and miniskirts and scantily dressed females with nothing more than the need to be desired. In all of the pheromone-filled classrooms, his mind should be racing, just like a teenage boy's thoughts should be doing. Instead he found himself privately wondering why they put up with wearing such things when it only meant that the boys tried to look up them when they thought they weren't looking.

Luckily, he managed to stay off the hook for most of the school year, considering it was exceptionally cold when they first started and by the time the climate returned to normal, it was already well into Autumn. All of his naive thoughts ran away the second the hot weather next rolled around.

On this particular morning, a certain little diva strutted into school in a low cut shirt that allowed his skin to breathe, accompanied by fitted trousers that hugged his hips and spanned out around his legs. All of Dave's attention suddenly flew to his backside, and he found himself suddenly thinking about how firm it was and now good it would feel to touch it.

He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself. Whenever he was around, all of that useless information flew out of Dave's mind. Kurt Hummel completely consumed his thoughts, and all the talk of girls and beaches seemed pointless when he closed his eyes and let his vivid imagination run away. Images of his hair, wet and plastered to his forehead as he burst from the surface of the water; tiny droplets cascading all the way down his bare skin. His lips parted as he gasped for air; eyes shining when they opened and gazed up in delighted freedom. Climbing out of the pool, shivering and laughing from the cold shock of the water but simply not caring.

Never mind that his thoughts were always so wrong; that he shouldn't imagine Kurt stretching in swim trunks or sprawled out sunbathing on a tropical beach. Never mind that they would never come true, at least not for his benefit.

To him, his secret was just another reason to love summer.


	2. Paris

**A/N:** This is the second one-word prompt. As before, these are all written within a day. Since my previous fic was so short, this is a bit longer and has a bit more of a plotline.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and to Lolee Ann, who gave me a good list of prompts. This was my favorite and thus prompted my story! Please enjoy.

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**Prompt:** Paris

**Word Count:** 4469

**Setting/Warnings:** Future!Fic, set in Paris, city of love. Sweet. No warnings.

Kurt Hummel always knew he'd be destined for Parisian culture. Broadway too, of course, but the life of a famous New York star could become rather pressing sometimes, and when the city life became too much for him to bare between productions, there was only one other place to go.

Ah, Paris. City of love. City of famous designers. City of sexy men with sexy accents, which he could observe in peace with a fresh batch of coffee and a few scripts tucked up in his cute little cream Prada over-the-shoulder bag. He sighed happily as a waiter approached the table and set down a fresh pot of milk which was served in a simply adorable little china number that matched the exterior without being too tacky. He'd had big dreams of the place, and it most certainly didn't disappoint. It was beautiful, and cultural, and so close to heaven he almost expected his mom to come strutting down one of the cobbled back streets.

What he didn't expect was to look up at his waiter to thank him with a warm smile, only to find himself looking straight into a pair of soft hazel brown eyes belonging to an admittedly older but instantly recognizable David Karofsky.

Kurt's mouth remained open and frozen in place, unable to form the words he'd been so intent on saying. Dave, who had been setting down the beverage with a polite comment in French, looked at him in a way that was both curious and a little disturbed by the way Kurt was now staring at him.

He didn't recognize him.

"M-Merci," he finally managed to stutter out through his shocked expression. David, who had picked up on his usually undetectable accent, tilted his head a little and politely ignored the stutter. Instead he offered the smaller man an easygoing, rather handsome smile and a calm response in English, tinged with his Ohio accent.

"You're welcome."

Kurt sat in refined silence for the good part of an hour, watching his old bully and sipping at his coffee absentmindedly once he remembered it was there. Dave looked so... different. Older. Calmer. Time could change a person, and it had been years. How many? Three? Five? No, wait, he'd have been eighteen when he last saw the man, so that made it... Seven years. Wow. They'd been in the same year, so he'd be twenty-five by now, just like Kurt.

Seven years could change a person, and drastically so, if that morning was anything to go by. Never in his whole life would he have considered Karofsky to be the move-to-France-and-work-in-a-Parisian-coffee-shop kind of guy. He'd heard his French; it had always been terrible. Hearing him speak fluently to the other customers ('_phrases he probably picked up from a terribly written little second hand book_', he'd thought cattily) made him realize maybe he'd been wrong. And then he felt bad for not speaking to him. Not all that bad for Karofsky; just because it had been a long time since high school didn't mean he wanted to sit around drinking coffee with him as they reminisced about the old times. Kurt didn't want to remember 'old times'. He left that place to get rid of them.

No, he wanted to finally be able to look Karofsky in the eye and tell him he wasn't afraid any more. He'd become successful in spite of everything the bully put him through. He was one of the biggest Broadway stars, here to take a break from his hectic life of performances and practicing. He wanted to finally be able to stand up and tell him to his face exactly what he thought of him; things that had been expressed only in his eyes and attitude before now.

He had it all planned out. He would come back right before Karofsky got off work for that night, march right up to him, introduce himself properly and politely request that he took a small amount of his time for the evening so they could talk. The moment they were alone, or even right there and then if he refused to talk to him, he'd stand with his head held high, look him straight in the eyes and just tell him. He'd tell him about all of the things he'd done in high school; every single emotion he'd ever felt. He'd tell him that he'd ruined his first kiss, which seemed like something trivial now, but at the time had been utterly devastating for him.

Perhaps he'd also thank him, because without the death threat pushing him over the edge (albeit temporarily) he would have never been sent to Dalton. Without the transfer, he and Blaine would probably have never gotten together. Sure, their relationship didn't last, but it had a good run of six months and left him feeling confident with himself and his skills as a boyfriend.

Kurt wanted that closure. He wanted the fulfillment of finally getting everything off his chest. He wanted that lifelong dream of standing up and proving to the world that he was better than his bullies just like he'd always said.

Everything was set in place for that night. After his coffee, Kurt carried his neat little tray to the clean-up counter himself instead of waiting for someone to come and get it for him. He leaned casually against it and smiled at the waitress, who greeted him with a polite smile.

"Excuse me, but could I ask what time you get off this evening?" Kurt asked in French, far more fluently than during his little stumble before.

She eyed him up and down once with disinterest and returned to her little notebook. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not interested."

"What? Oh no, no! Please, I didn't mean it like that." Kurt shook his head and gestured to Dave, who was chatting cheerily to an elderly woman and her daughter. "I meant for that waiter over there. Dave."

Her eyes widened a little in surprise and she straightened up, suddenly appearing far friendlier. "Oh! I see. Yes; David gets off around six this evening. Should I give him a message?"

"No, no, that's okay. I'd prefer it if it was a surprise. We were friends in high school; it's been a while, you see..."

She nodded her head passionately and flashed him a much warmer smile as she took the tray from the counter to give it to cleaning. "It's no problem, sir."

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Shops, street performances, classy restaurants, sightseeing, photographs... At the end of it all, when he'd showered, gone through his nightly moisturizing routine and curled up on his bed in a free fluffy bathrobe, he found that he hadn't stopped thinking about his bully-turned-waiter all day. He flicked absentmindedly through his camera from that day, finding that he could only remember taking less than half of them.

It was ten O'clock at night.

In the end, he hadn't been able to go back to the café. All day he'd psyched himself up to go back and finally confront his bully, but for some reason when the time ticked around, he found himself standing on the cobbles at the other side of the street, inconspicuously browsing through their display of theater masks, which ranged from tacky to downright adorable.

He watched Dave through the reflection in the mirrors lined up around the display, observing him as he swept the front step and finally left for the night, calling something to one of his coworkers and laughing delightedly at the response.

That laugh did something to Kurt. It made something stir within him to see that undeniably handsome face lit up in a bright smile instead of being twisted into the hateful expression he'd always carried around in his presence. He watched as he pulled the coat over his broad shoulders and made his way down the street, out of sight.

Instead of following, Kurt just stood there until he caught sight of himself in the mirror and realized he was standing there with slightly flushed cheeks and a stupid smile on his face. It immediately dropped from his face and he fought it off, mortified at being affected so badly.

All the same, instead of trying to catch up or ask at the shop for further details, he trailed away down the street and wandered aimlessly until he grew tired of walking.

The next day, around mid afternoon, Kurt returned from another morning of sightseeing. It had taken a lot of self control for him to wander around until this late instead of rushing straight back to the charming little bistro as soon as possible.

Dave wasn't on duty. Kurt's heart sank as he placed his order and took a seat at his previous table outside, curling up with a script and attempting to focus on it. He had a lot of productions to get into again when he returned to New York, so he might as well get back into the routine of going over his lines. He could have chanted Fiyero's lines backwards, but at least it would give him something to do besides sit there and look around for the man like a stalker.

Around ten minutes later, Kurt was taking a delicate bite into the sweet cherry teacake he'd ordered when he heard two voices speaking in rapid fire French from behind him as they headed up the quiet street to _Le Baiser De Café_. His ears perked up when he recognized one of them and he zoned into the conversation.

"-mean there was nobody waiting for you last night?"

"I mean what I said. There was nobody there waiting for me when my shift ended. Are you sure the guy was asking after me?"

"Pretty sure. You were the one that served him, after all, and I'm pretty sure... oh, what's the word? 'Bats for your team'? There aren't many gay men around here. Besides, he said he knew you from high school."

Kurt glanced at him from behind the script and huddled back when they passed and headed into the café. Dave was frowning a little to himself.

"Angelique, I wasn't out of the closet in high school. Nobody knew I was gay," he explained further when she glanced at him questioningly, misunderstanding the metaphor. "If I knew him from my schooldays, he would have just been a friend. Maybe he meant another David? There's that brunette who works behind..."

After that, Kurt couldn't hear the rest of the conversation because they'd passed through the near-silent coffee shop and into the back room to pick up their uniforms. When they re-emerged, neither of them spoke. Instead, they went back to their stations and continued their work as usual. Kurt drained his cup, daintily finished off his desert and carried his tray to the cleaning station yet again. She looked up at him and immediately straightened, clearly desperate to talk to him but restraining herself. How Parisian.

Instead of humoring her, he merely nodded his head pleasantly at her, which she returned cordially.

Dave was outside sweeping again when Kurt left. His hands grew clammy watching the huge man, still so much taller and stronger than him, but he shook it off and gripped his shoulder strap a little tighter so his knuckles turned white. With a deep breath, he straightened up and approached him with carefully placed strides, head held high. His hand was steady by the time he gently placed it on his arm, pausing his motions. The brunette head turned his way and smiled lightly, clearly expecting for it to be another customer.

"Good afternoon, sir. Can I-"

"Karofsky. It's been a while."

Those eyes steadied on his face for a couple of moments, letting the words and cocky accent (tinged with that angry New-Yorker vibe he'd picked up over time) sink in.

Kurt couldn't hold back his smile when those lips twitched and his eyes widened in recognition.

"Hummel? Is that you?"

"Yes." His reply was crisp and tinged with amusement. Dave shook his head a little and gave a weak laugh.

"I served you yesterday, as well. How did I not... Wow. You look so different." And indeed he did. His face was older, more mature, and had lost most of the cherubic roundness it used to possess. His lips were a little thinner and his skin seemed smooth and pale as always. The eyes seemed more powerful; his nose more hawk-like and elegant. He was taller too; they were almost the same height. Still thin; still fabulously dressed; which would have normally made him stand out right away, but Paris was full of such men and Dave had grown used to seeing them on an everyday basis.

More than that, though, difference just seemed to surround him. What it was exactly, the man couldn't quite locate, but there was something. A change in the way he carried himself, confident and totally at ease with himself.

It was absolutely stunning.

Kurt brushed away a lock of his (shorter) hair and cleared his throat in a delicate cough, which made him realize he was staring. Color rose to his cheeks and he managed a weak smile. "Sorry. It's been a long while."

"It has." Kurt agreed readily. "I never would have expected to see you here. I would have said something yesterday, but I got a little tied up."

"That's fine. It's just nice to know that the mystery friend has a face; Angelique was going out of her mind."

"Well, I'm here. Mystery 'friend' in the flesh. Do you mind if we sit down? I have a lot I want to talk about."

"Of course. I just took a break, but let me see if I can get a little time. Please, wait here."

Kurt repositioned himself in his chair and neatly folded his legs one over the other, which were lean and well toned from his dancing. This didn't go unnoticed by the waiter when he reemerged and took the place opposite him. Kurt just managed to catch a glimpse of Angelique straining to see what was going on before she noticed him and flushed, turning her back on the pair to continue polishing glasses.

"I might have to go and serve customers if they show up, but I have time for you. What did you want to talk about?"

Kurt watched his lap for a few moments, brushing away imaginary creases and crumbs. When he looked up again, his eyes were suddenly firm and serious. He might as well cut to the chase straight away. He switched straight to English, deciding it would be easier for them to understand one another and lower their chances of being overheard (which he didn't care so much about) or interrupted (which mattered quite a bit).

"I want to talk to you about what happened in high school."

Dave shook his head and leaned on one hand, rubbing at his temple with his fingers. "I thought as much. With all the things I did to you, I doubted you wanted to talk about Hockey..."

"You tormented me, Karofsky. For almost two years. You drove me out of my school with fear, and you made me leave everything behind. All the people I cared about; everything I worked so hard for."

Dave cupped his chin instead of his forehead and observed Kurt in reserved silence, allowing him to speak, which he did so quite happily.

"Whenever I had to switch classes, I was scared of walking down the hallway by myself in case you decided to attack me. You terrorized me and my friends for the simple reason that you couldn't control your own anger. You lashed out without motive, particularly to me. You almost made me hate who I was. If I hadn't transferred, you would have driven me out of my mind for good."

Kurt's chest was heaving a little heavier than falling, but other than that, nothing at all portrayed how much this conversation was affecting him. He had to take a deep breath to continue.

"I want you to know how you made me feel, Karofsky. You made me so scared I couldn't face going to school any more. You made me sweat every time someone bigger than me brushed past me in the hallway, or when someone talked to be right behind my head in class. I'm not afraid of you any more. I stopped being afraid a long, long time ago, and I've overcome everything you threw in my path. I have nothing more to say to you."

Dave, who was rather pale by this time and had some undetectable emotion shimmering in his eyes, merely observed Kurt in silence for a few long seconds. He savored seeing the big man so defenseless, but it made something else stir within him as well.

"You're right," he finally replied in a quiet voice. "I had no reason for what I did to you and everyone else. There's no way I can ever make up for what I've done; for what I took from you. Everything I did – it was all because I was a bitter, angry young man with no way of expressing how I felt about everything. About you."

He paused and let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to focus on that, in fear of embarrassing the other man when they were finally together and relatively alone. It was no laughing matter, but Kurt understood that it was to try and relieve the tension. He gestured for the man to continue.

"I can only say I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry for everything. I was an immature, selfish person with a terrible attitude to everyone who affected me. I can never go back and redo all the things that I did to hurt others, but believe me, every day I wish I could. I'm so glad you achieved your dreams. Broadway, right?" Kurt nodded his head silently, and Dave's smile broadened. "I'm honestly happy for you. God knows you deserve it, after all the crap I dragged you through. But I want you to know that I really have changed. Thinking about how I made you feel; how I drove you out of school... That was what spurned me to change how I acted. And I wish I could make up for everything I did to you. I wish that every single day."

"Thank you, David." The reply was calm and controlled and everything Dave wished he could be. They smiled at one another from their seats and Kurt slid his bag over his shoulder. "I need to get going," he added as he got to his feet. Dave quickly followed suit.

"Right. Yes, of course. Thank you for talking with me today, Kurt. Good luck with your next big role."

Kurt just stood there for a few moments, watching the other with mild curiosity, drinking in his appearance. With a slight nibble to his lip, he let his blue-green eyes linger on hazel for just a moment.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he announced quite firmly, with no room for complaint. "I need my caffeine fix and this is the best place I've found."

With that, he said his goodbyes and walked off down the cobbled street.

The next day, the poor man was panicking a little over whether or not Kurt would really come back. He'd stayed back an extra half-hour the night before discussing it in detail with Angelique, who firmly reassured him that it would be fine. He believed her, but it was still a relief to see him walking in at one; the same time as yesterday, as a matter of fact. He ordered without a glance at the waiter, took his normal seat and pulled out a script. When Dave fetched the coffee, he wondered why Kurt ordered two cups instead of one. Did he have a friend with him?

At the table, Kurt merely smiled and gestured for him to sit down. Why the coffee was exactly the same as his usual order, he didn't know, but he realized it was important for him to take this chance.

They talked, with small breaks between so Dave could serve customers, until the café closed up for the night.

Kurt didn't show up the next day, and Angelique wondered – mostly to herself, as was polite – where he was. Despite his disinterest and lack of comment, she noted that her friend seemed to pine over him like a little puppy. Her lips remained sealed, but she couldn't hold back her smile when they left together, only to find Dave's new 'friend' standing outside the bistro with a wordless smile.

"I thought you could take me out for the night."

"I can do that."

They walked off together, their paces aligned step by step. They were already smiling so much, Angelique couldn't help but grin at how adorable they looked.

"That street performance was amazing! I had no idea you could get those sorts of shows for free."

Dave smiled at the excited look on Kurt's face. They'd already had dinner (which Dave paid for, of course) at a restaurant that could have been either friendly or romantic depending on the couple, so as to keep Kurt at ease. Conversation flowed easily, and neither one of them couldn't remember a time when they'd laughed so much. Afterwards, they'd taken a long walk to see some of the lesser known beauty spots that were often overlooked by tourists. Kurt managed to get a lot more pictures. From their spot next to an old Parisian manner home, they'd spotted some lights and music coming from the square. Wordless glances were exchanged, and they hurried towards the performance with excitement bubbling in their hearts.

"I had no idea people could stretch that easily, and that's saying something after New Directions," he commented with a happy laugh that did wonderful things to Dave's stomach.

"I know. I mean, I've lived here for almost a year now and I still find beautiful little surprises popping up when you least expect them to."

A silence fell over them when they glanced at each other for just a moment. Their cheeks darkened in color and they looked away again, but when Dave's eyes flickered over to him again for just a moment, he noticed Kurt was smiling. They turned off and started heading towards Kurt's hotel, trailing slowly down a twisting cobbled street lit by soft oil lamps hanging above their heads.

"It's my last day here," he admitted in a soft, slightly melancholic voice, breaking the silence. "My flight leaves at six tomorrow morning."

"Oh. I... I had no idea."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner; I just never expected to for it to really... matter, you know?"

Dave nodded silently, finding that both their paces decreased in speed, perhaps to try and make this moment last for a bit longer. "I know."

They paused at the corner, and Kurt glanced up the road to his hotel. His teeth were gnawing at his lip again. Dave couldn't help but reach out and place a large hand over his cheek, brushing the soft skin with his fingertips.

"I'll miss you," he admitted quietly. Kurt gazed up at him and found that for the first time, he really didn't want to leave his past tormentor. Dave really had changed. And, whether it was the truly heartbreaking expression on his face or the genuine way his eyes misted over, Kurt found that he was suddenly reaching into his bag for a pen and a spare piece of paper. He scribbled at it for a few moments and passed it over to the taller man, who took it with a confused look.

"This is my e-mail and the address to my apartment. Come and visit me if you're ever in New York."

His heart was fluttering and his stomach churned with emotion, but all he could do was nod his head dumbly. "You can count on it."

They stood facing one another in awkward silence, knowing that this was their goodbye. Dave went for a handshake, which felt too impersonal after everything, but Kurt grasped his hand regardless. Instead of shaking it however, his hand closed over the large paw and he reached out to hug him tightly. Dave clung to him tightly, drinking in the feel, the warmth, the smell; the very essence of the smaller boy. When they parted, he felt Kurt's lips press against his cheek.

"I forgive you," he whispered into the darkness. Dave could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He'd wanted to hear those words for so long.

And then, he was gone. The big man stood alone on the corner and looked down at the paper folded in his hands. It smelt of Kurt.

The flight touched down less than a day later. Kurt greeted his old college-roommate-cum-best-friend with a hug and promises of presents if he left him alone until tomorrow, when they could meet up for coffee and swap stories about their time apart.

Despite the jet lag and general exhaustion from hauling numerous large suitcases around his spacious studio apartment (and unpacking immediately, in fear of his clothing becoming creased), Kurt still couldn't sleep that night. Instead he lay in the darkness and listened to the traffic bustling about below him, wondering what time it was in Paris. With a sigh he rolled over and flicked on his laptop, heading straight for his e-mail inbox.

His hands were shaking as he stood there on the doorstep, feeling like an utter fool. He'd read and re-read the address so many times, he thought the words might fall from the page, erased by his restless vision.

He took a deep breath and tried to stop his trembling. It was one of those moments of _'oh my god am I really about to do this?' _Before he could even think about it, his hand shot out and pressed the doorbell sharply._ Yes._

The door flung open and Kurt stood there, flustered and disheveled. A stack of papers were in his hands – pages and pages of e-mails they'd sent to each other over the past month.

When the big man asked if he could come and visit, Kurt immediately said yes. But having him here, in the flesh, was another matter entirely.

They both sighed at the sight of each other and Dave stepped over the doorstep into Kurt's open arms.


	3. Pork Chop

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this! I have had to change this to M as it is rated as such. Not quite as smutty as I thought it would be.

If you have time, please take a moment to review, whether it's to tell me which story you like the best, how much you hate it, what you'd like me to improve on, to give a prompt of your own or whatever else, please tell me! Reviews encourage me to write some more.

Anyhow, here is a (slight belated) update to the Prompty One-Shots. I hope you enjoy!

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**Prompt:** Pork Chop

**Word Count: **5733

**Warnings: **Established relationship; past slight Blaine/Kurt. Smutty, slight language. Very fluffy. Prudish!Dave and Wanton!Kurt - why shouldn't it be mixed up sometimes? **Rated M.**

There was no denying it. Kurt Hummel had a problem with Dave Karofsky.

Oh don't take it the wrong way; Kurt was more than happy with his boyfriend of almost five months now. Not many guys would be fine with hand holding, long walks, romantic dinners, flowers, love-songs and all of the other generally romantic crap Kurt asked him to tolerate. In fact, (not that he would admit it to anyone other than his boyfriend) some secret part of the big man actually rather enjoyed it.

Kurt made his triumphant return from Dalton and dove headfirst into McKinely culture not four months after his departure; only this time he brought along a small, triangular-eyebrowed hobbit freak with him. Dave loathed him with a passion. Unlike his false hatred of Kurt, which he could now admit to being a cover for his complete and utter infatuation for the boy, he actually genuinely despised Blaine, to the extent of flat out refusing to go anywhere near him.

Since at this point Kurt still appreciated being avoided by the big man, it was fortunate that he was more inclined to ignore him than attempt to pick a fight. He could have easily beaten him – the guy couldn't be more than 5'6 on a good day; he and that Berry chick could have been twins – but that would have been a very stupid idea considering he was still pining like a puppy over the taller of the two and the glee club would be more than ready to jump on his ass (and not in the good way, either) should he hurt their new member.

So, Dave kept his distance. And, slowly but surely, things began to change. He bumped into Blaine a couple of times; both literally and metaphorically but in both cases completely by accident; and one day they ended up sitting down and talking.

They didn't discuss his sexuality, or his obvious attraction to Kurt, or what the hell he was going to do about either of those things. Instead, Blaine opened up about all the stuff that mattered to him in the world, and Dave found himself doing the same. They discussed sport and TV shows (which didn't vary all that much); music choices and literature (which varied a great deal) and Dave discovered that Blaine was actually a pretty alright guy. One worthy of dating Kurt.

It was one of those dreary days when he and Blaine were curled up playing chess that those thoughts slipped out during their idle conversation. Blaine ended up snorting with laughter in Dave's face, which both startled and annoyed him.

"What's so funny?" he demanded with a short huff, crossing his arms.

"I'm sorry, but... Really? Me and _Kurt_? He's a sweetheart and everything, don't get me wrong, but I'm not exactly his type." The wry smile on his face was kind of irritating.

"Don't be stupid. You'd have to be blind to think he didn't have thing for you." Not that he was jealous or anything.

"David -" At some point Blaine insisted on being called 'Blaine' instead of 'Hobbit', and in return Dave went from 'Karofsky' to 'David' (never Dave, even though he'd insisted) – "Kurt and I aren't together. I think perhaps the idea of having another gay boy so close to him might have been the cause for an unexpected infatuation, but it was never anything more than that. I believe that now, he's gotten over the idea and has his sights set somewhere else entirely."

There was a brief pause, where Blaine took a long drink of water and shifted one of his knights absentmindedly. "He's not into guys like me. I suppose the musical side of me appeals, but that's more because of the similar interests, not the physical attraction. He likes tall boys – sporty boys – the real men that tend to enjoy shoving each other around on a football pitch. That was why he had a thing for Finn ages ago, long before they became brothers. I think I'm a bit too fussy and clean; despite his protests, I'm sure he's the type that can enjoy a little bit of rough and tumble every now and then."

This conversation was a subtle but important change in his perspective towards the effeminate boy, which was perhaps what led into their friendship and eventual relationship. Despite giving him amazing fantasy fodder full of hot, sweaty sex complete with dirty talk and biting, it also gave him the little idea that if things had been different, perhaps Kurt would have liked him that way after all.

So, over time, he joined glee like Blaine asked, kept up with sport and somehow found himself comfortably slipping into a routine that kept both sides reasonably happy. Kurt still ignored him for the most part, but the guys on the team also ignored his sudden interest in singing and dancing, so it kind of evened out.

The ball really started rolling when he was invited to a watch-movies-all-night-and-crash-on-Blaine's-floor weekend, and who should he find sitting on the bed in white ("Soft cream with a hint of beige, actually") pajamas? Of course, it was none other than Kurt Hummel. After the initial reactions of "OMG (Oh my god for Dave; Gaga for Kurt) what are you doing here?" and attempts to find excuses to leave, Blaine convinced them both to stay and at some point between Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid, they found themselves talking and laughing with ease.

Waking up in the morning next to Blaine, with Kurt sprawled over both of them was a little awkward, especially when he tried to move him away so he could go to the bathroom, but instead of snapping and yelling, they were able to laugh about it later. They started talking between classes and during glee club. They both sat with Blaine at lunch, and one time when he was absent they still managed to talk without any awkward silences or urges to fight.

By winter break, Kurt found himself realizing how close they'd suddenly become, and – even more to his surprise – how little that fact bothered him. The companionship was nice, and he enjoyed his time with Dave immensely.

New Year soon rolled around and this year, instead of crashing at someone's house, they got a little money together and rented out the back room of a pub for their own little get together. There was a little alcohol, but neither Kurt nor Dave drank it, considering Blaine had a tendency to get shitfaced whenever the opportunity arose and someone needed to take care of him. They were both aware of the other's resignation to stay sober, which meant Kurt also knew that there would be no excuse in the morning for doing something stupid.

Something like, oh, let's say, spending a good ten minutes snogging the big man, and enjoying every second of it too.

He remembered the moment in exquisite detail. He'd just spent quite an extensive amount of time jumping around to Lady Gaga like a madman and singing along at the top of his voice, which meant he was all hot and bothered quite quickly. He headed outside into the pub garden and bumped into a grinning Dave, who'd been watching as he got some fresh air. They were laughing hysterically about it right as midnight began to creep ever closer, and he bumped into the man a couple of times from sheer giddiness. They were still laughing when he caught him, twirling him around a couple of times just for the fun of it.

That was how he found himself tucked up under his arm with his hands pressed lightly on the broad expanse of his chest, giggling away to himself. His gaze lifted and locked with Dave's, and he felt his mouth go dry. The snicker died in his throat, but the smile remained. They just stood there for what felt like forever, looking at each other, frozen in the moment. Kurt moved first. His neck arched upwards and he pressed his lips against Dave's in a soft kiss. The soft gasp that left Dave's mouth didn't make him move away; instead he just remained still and let the connection sink in. It was a few moments later that he pulled back, eyes flickering nervously over his face. The dull glitter in his eyes made his breath hitch and before he knew what he was doing he was kissing him again without a moment's hesitation.

It was unlike anything he'd ever done before. The forceful kiss in the locker room hadn't given the man enough credit. The shy, fleeting kisses with Blaine dulled in comparison. Their mouths worked together in a frenzy, tongues twining, bodies arching, hands grasping at anything he could reach. At some point Kurt shoved Dave up against the wall and rubbed up against him as long fingers buried in short brown hair and gripped on for dear life.

Puck stumbled out and found them practically whimpering as they melted into one another.

"Oh, shit! Sorry guys," he muttered, covering his eyes and hurrying past as best he could with his tipsy legs on the way to the bathroom. "Didn't see you there. Don't mind me!"

The moment was ruined of course, but Kurt remembered looking up at Dave and offering him a flustered smile, hair messed up and cheeks flushed bright pink. It was returned shyly and all the young soprano could think about was why he hadn't realized how attracted he was to the boy before now.

So, after more than a little bit of nervousness and a slightly awkward, jumbled up conversation later, Kurt happily agreed to a date. And hey, if a guy drives you out of town to an all-night movie marathon composed entirely of Judy Garland films, you can't really turn down the opportunity to make him your boyfriend. Dave confirmed the long-running suspicions surrounding his sexuality by proudly walking down the school hallways with Kurt on his arm, not caring one bit what anyone else thought.

Skip forward four months and twenty three days, and here they were. Not a whole lot had changed. Kurt had initially worried that their time together wouldn't seem so sweet once the honeymoon period passed by, but things were still wonderful. Dave was always a gentleman; bringing him flowers, serenading him with Bublé and Sinatra, taking him out on picnics or long walks, surprising him with presents and impulsive dates... It was everything Kurt had ever dreamed of. Well, almost everything. Dave was more than happy to please him in every possible aspect, except one.

Contrary to popular belief, Dave was actually not the lecherous pervert so many assumed him to be. Not once had he tried to feel Kurt up or push things further, which was appreciated on Kurt's side. Things never went further than make-out sessions and light touching, such as rubbing his chest through his shirt. Once or twice, Dave had stroked Kurt's thigh when the kissed, which had turned him on beyond belief. The safety and lack of pressure was comfortable and undeniably sweet, but more recently Kurt was becoming interested in taking things a little bit further. And that was where this problem with his boyfriend arose.

A couple of weeks ago, Dave and he had plans with a warm blanket, a couch and a couple of sappy movies they could both enjoy. Dave was allowed to stay over under the circumstances that he slept apart from Kurt and no 'funny business' went on in the family home. They both respected that rule, and didn't consider breaking it for a moment, so at the time Kurt hadn't had the time to realize that they might have a problem. Unknown to his father, they always ended up sneaking into one room or another so they could be together in the night, but the rule remained unbroken. When they 'slept together' they literally just slept. Dave loved to cuddle when he was asleep, and Kurt found the affection endearing. He literally couldn't sleep unless Kurt went to lay down with him, and he teased that he should just bring a teddy next time. Dave merely huffed about it, but he could laugh along with the smaller teen.

They were out for a short walk to the nearest store to pick up snacks for the evening when it started to rain, and by the time they made it back they were both drenched and shivering. Kurt had at least been wearing a coat, so he managed to get off lightly, but Dave being the silly boy that he was had left it at home with the rest of his stuff. At least he had clean pajamas and a fresh pair of clothes in his bag. Kurt sent him upstairs to have a hot shower and change into his sleepwear, whilst he went and showered using his own bathroom and quickly went through his evening moisturizing routine. He was almost done when he realized he'd left his toning cream in the main bathroom, rendering a good portion of the routine pointless. He couldn't hear anything when he was walking down the hallway, so he opened the door without thinking.

Cue his boyfriend, dripping wet and naked apart from a thin towel slung around his waist.

Kurt never really thought he was the perverted type. When he played as the kicker in the football team, he never once tried to peek at the other guys when they were showering. In general, he'd never even glanced at Dave. If he was already deflecting homophobic slurs daily, he wasn't going to fuel them on by checking him out, no matter how subtly. He didn't try to deflect his gaze now, more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes ran down that broad expanse of his chest, drinking in the broad shoulders and rolling muscles. He was surprisingly hairless apart from a light dusting of black at the top of his chest and a small trail that disappeared into the towel wrapped around his hips. Small drops of water pooled down his firm body and made Kurt's mouth go dry at the thought of dropping to his knees and licking them off. Unfortunately, his little show was interrupted when Dave turned his head and caught sight of him with a small start.

"Oh! Uhh, I'm not done," he protested with a slight spasm of his hand and a few flustered motions, holding his clothes over his still damp body as best he could.

"I... I can see that. Sorry, I just need this..." Kurt took the bottle as calmly as he could and left the bathroom with only a little bit of pink in his cheeks.

A minute or so later and he was lying on his back with his legs spread, one hand down his pants and the other up his shirt. He writhed on the bed, caressing his body and biting back sounds like a cat in heat.

A short time later he re-emerged, clean and complete in his skin routine, to curl up with his boyfriend on the couch. He'd agreed not to do anything under their roof – but he'd never said anything about being a good boy at Dave's.

These newly-awakened thoughts and frantic midnight masturbating sessions became a daily occurrence in Kurt's routine and it wasn't long until he thought it was high time he acted upon them. After all, they'd been going out for five months. That was a very long time to stick to just kisses and gentle caresses, particularly for a teenage boy. Even his dad didn't know that they were still virgins – he assumed that all those times Kurt claimed to be having a movie marathon at Mercedes' house he was staying up all night screwing with his boyfriend like rabbits, but in all honesty he was telling the truth. In his opinion, it was high time they took it to the next level. He trusted Dave and wanted to lose his virginity to the man he loved. He wanted to know what the big deal was all about, and more than that he wanted to share this thing with his boyfriend and know that it was special.

So, right after their next date night – an ice skating session and a long walk around the park – he insisted that he walked Dave home instead of letting Dave escort him back to his abode as he usually did. They were kissing goodbye as usual and Kurt let his hands crawl up over the broad expanse of his chest and, quite suddenly, let his fingers slip under it to touch the hot skin underneath. His mouth buried into the side of Dave's neck, kissing at it with feverish delight, which he knew was a huge turn on for the big man. He expected to be scooped up and carried off to the bedroom without another question. What he didn't expect for Dave to push him away and keep him there with a firm grip. "Goodnight, Kurt," he ground out through gritted teeth. With a light peck to his forehead – his_ forehead_ of all places! – Dave was gone, leaving Kurt confused and aroused on the doorstep.

After a rather irritated wanking session, Kurt began to wonder why it was that Dave pushed him away as he did. Maybe it was just nerves? Perhaps it was because it just took him by surprise. Yes, that must be it. He'd just have to try again.

The next day after school he ended up curled on Dave's couch with a movie slotted into the DVD player, cuddling up against his broad chest and idly stroking his hands. He'd lost interest in the storyline quite some time ago, so he nuzzled up to his shoulder and started to kiss at his cheeks and jawline absentmindedly. The attempt at a distraction worked like a charm after the first few moments and Dave turned his head so they could kiss properly, lips caressing one another in a well rehearsed dance.

The movie played on in the background, forgotten by both boys as their kisses progressed onto Dave lying on his back with his arms wrapped around Kurt, their tongues mingling and twining like snakes as his fingers buried into his perfect hair. Kurt would usually be irritated by this, but the thought of getting down and dirty with his man made a small shiver pass through him, and he let it go. His mouth moved down to his neck, leaving a little trail of licks and nibbles for his enjoyment. A soft moan let his mouth when their hips brushed and connected. He rocked his hips forwards a little, pressing into his pelvis and mewling delightedly at the contact. Dave's head was thrown back against the arm of the couch and a soft groan vibrated across his exposed throat. Kurt's hands slipped up against his stomach as he moved down and down, really starting to get into what they were doing.

Right as he began to bite at his collarbones, Kurt leaned in and licked the shell of his ear once more, whispering into the lobe the way he knew Dave liked it. "Maybe we should take this upstairs."

Big hands closed over his shoulders and pushed him away easily. Kurt was left pouting and wriggling a little in protest. Dave's eyes were closed and he took deep breaths, frowning to himself.

"Kurt, come on, we should stop."

Oh, Kurt didn't like that idea. At all. He brushed his hand over Dave's chest, finding a nipple and brushing it through his shirt. The big man twitched and Kurt fought back a sly giggle at his sensitivity.

"I don't want to stop, Dave. Come on, it'll be fine..."

Dave's eyes snapped open. The lust in them made Kurt shiver all over and he felt the grip relent for a few moments, allowing him to dive back down and start kissing him again. Dave let out a small whimper at the brush of his tongue on his earlobe and for a moment, the young soprano thought he'd won. Apparently not. The hands were pushing at him again and Kurt sat back, more than a little bit irritated by now.

"Dave, what's wrong? Don't you want to?"

"I do, I swear, it's just..." Dave was sitting up now, pinching at the bridge of his nose; a sure sign that he was stressed or struggling with his feelings.

"You just what, Dave?"

"I just... Look, can we not talk about this now?"

Kurt huffed, glaring a little bit and folding his arms. "We're talking and we're talking now. Seriously; what's wrong? We've been going out for five months. Five months! That's almost half a year. I know you're trying to be a gentleman and trust me, I appreciate that, but sometimes I need a little bit of intimacy, you know?"

"Kurt, I can't do this, okay? Not now. Please."

"Why not? Do you not think I'm sexy? Am I not good enough for you? Tell me right now David if I'm the problem here, because I'm just not getting it.

"What? Kurt, no!" Dave was flailing with his hands a little bit and he reached forwards to grasp one of his delicate hands in his own. "Kurt, of course you're sexy. You're the hottest damn thing I've seen in my life. I just don't think I'm ready to do this. I don't want to screw this up. But there's not a problem; I swear."

Kurt wanted to believe him, he really did, but Dave's eyes were doing that twitchy thing where they darted away from his face every so often. He was lying. Kurt's cheeks flushed in offense and he slid away from the big man, snatching up his bag from beside him and buttoning up his shirt.

"I think I should go."

With that, he turned and walked out of the front door, leaving his boyfriend sighing and rubbing his eyes with a tired hand.

The next morning, Kurt felt terrible. It wasn't Dave's fault that he'd gotten nervous; he had every right to say no. Hell, Kurt knew he was more than a little bit prudish himself. All of this sudden attention probably freaked Dave the hell out. And instead of trying to understand this and talk around it, he'd gone into a massive sulk and walked right out the door like a bitchy little diva. So yeah, he felt pretty shit. Maybe he should go and apologize... Actually, scratch that. There was no 'maybe' about it. He should go and put things right now before it got worse.

Kurt headed on over the moment he'd picked the perfect outfit and quickly skimmed through his face creams and cleansing scrubs. He tried ringing Dave but there was no reply – which only made him feel worse, in all honesty.

The front door was locked when he tried it. Disappointment filled his heart for a few moments, but he suddenly remembered that the back door was always unlocked, since it was surrounded by a high fence and nobody tried to get in. So, trying his hardest not to feel like a stalker, Kurt clambered up over the wall and shucked himself down the other side, dropping into the garden. He could thank the gods of fashion (and Gaga, naturally) that he was so agile – it meant his clothing didn't get torn or muddy by snagging on the fence or landing on the ground.

The house was quiet when he went inside. Kurt called out into the hushed rooms. The way his soft voice echoed off the walls, followed by more silence, unnerved him and he had to remind himself that this wasn't some creepy horror movie where an axe murderer suddenly pounced from the shadows. Dave was probably just still asleep. He always liked to stay in on Saturday.

Attempting not the think about it, Kurt began to head upstairs, ignoring the way the steps creaked eerily under his delicate feet. When he got to the top of the stairs he had to pause. He realized he'd never even been into Dave's bedroom before. Not once. If he stayed over, they'd camp out downstairs with a heap of blankets.

Two of the doors were wide open, showing the clean bathroom and his parents' room, both of which were empty. One could only be the door of a linen cupboard, so that left the one on the right hand side, which was shut tight.

Calming his nerves, he knocked lightly on the wood and heard a small grunt from within, confirming his thoughts that Dave was fast asleep. When there was no movement from behind the door, he grasped the handle and pushed it open.

The sight before him made him gasp in surprise.

The room was not as small as Dave had excused it to be; it was smaller than Kurt's but still of a reasonable enough size to accommodate them both. The walls were painted a light blue, fading in some areas, and posters of various blues artists were spotted around in certain areas. One wall was covered from head to toe in photographs. The furniture was all made of light pine. It was clean and neat, for what you could see; no clothes on the floor, no rubbish strewn around... But that wasn't what surprised Kurt so much.

No, what shocked him to his core; what surprised him beyond belief was the fact that every available inch of space housed plush toys and teddy bears of every shape and size known to mankind.

A row of enormous bears looked down at him from the top of the wardrobe. A drooping donkey surrounded by various farm animals watched from the corner. The curtains peeked open, showing a glimpse of pocket-sized mice lined up on the windowsill. The floor was clear, but every surface remained entirely devoted to the toys.

And there, in the middle of his bed, sprawled out and still asleep, lay his boyfriend – with his arms wrapped around a very large stuffed pig.

Kurt had to clasp a hand to his mouth to stop himself from snorting with laughter, but he couldn't help the giddy bubble of relief rising up within him. Dave simply looked too adorable curled up like that, and now he knew why he was so against 'taking things upstairs'. It wasn't the sex; it was literally the problem upstairs.

Calming himself with deep breaths, Kurt slid onto the bed and reached out to pat his boyfriend's shoulder gently, shaking him awake. The big man groaned and buried his cheek into the pig defiantly for a few moments, but when Kurt persisted he reluctantly woke up and peered at him with bleary eyes. The wide grin on Kurt's face made him smile in return and he groggily sat up, arms still clasped around his sleeping companion. It was only when Kurt found himself suppressing a little giggle that Dave really woke up – and he dropped the pig from his arms like it was a white-hot piece of iron.

"K-Kurt! Oh shit, I... I wasn't doing anything I swear!" he pleaded, utterly mortified.

"Uh-huh? And who is this?" Kurt asked, plucking up the pig and smiling at it fondly.

"He's nothing. Umm. It's nothing. I just..."

Dave buried his head in his hands, completely humiliated by the eventual discovery. Kurt didn't mock him and instead placed the toy in his lap and stroked over it absentmindedly, admiring the soft fur.

"So... this is why you didn't want to go further? Because you were scared I might find out about..." He trailed off and shrugged, gesturing to the room. "this?"

Dave nodded his head slowly, still rubbing at his temples with his fingers. Kurt couldn't stop his smile.

"Honestly? That's adorable." Dave's head jerked up and he couldn't suppress a light giggle. "And just a little bit weird. So I guess it matches you," he teased, unable to help himself. "But you don't think I'm ugly or anything, right? Unappealing?" Dave shook his head hurriedly, and the admiration in his eyes made Kurt well aware that he was genuinely telling the truth this time. "It was just because of this?" Another nod. Kurt sighed and leaned forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"That, I can work with. I'm just so relieved! I thought you found me unattractive or something."

"What? Kurt, no. I meant what I said. You're the hottest damn thing I've seen in my life. I'm supposed to be the big strong guy, you know? I couldn't tell you that even as a fully grown guy I can't sleep without clinging to something." Ahh, now that made sense. It explained all the unexpected cuddling and his embarrassment when Kurt teased him about it. The smile couldn't help but break out once more and he kissed him again in a much longer kiss.

"I came to apologize," he admitted when he finally pulled back, his hair a little messier and his lips a touch more swollen. "I shouldn't have stormed out like I did yesterday. Although I suppose I know why, now."

Kurt suddenly got to his feet, leaving the pig behind, and headed out into the linen cupboard along the hall. "Kurt?" Dave called, arms wrapping around the abandoned toy self consciously.

The boy returned with a huge pile of blankets, beginning to cover the various piles of toys with an efficient air of silence. "Umm, what are you doing?"

"There's no way I want all these things watching me when we have sex – I feel bad enough just thinking that my mom might be looking at me. Now shush."

The awkward stuttering and silence from the big man afterwards made him grin. He turned and stalked slowly towards the man, reaching out to pluck the pig from his grip. "I'm very sorry, Mister..."

"Pork Chop."

"Pork Chop? Seriously? Okay... Mister Pork Chop; you shall have to leave our company for the time being." Without another word to the mute animal he reached over and promptly placed it under the bed.

"Now then, Dave, maybe we should get this party started," Kurt purred, leaning over his half clothed boyfriend with a gleam in his eyes.

It was because of this that Kurt found himself lying on his back with his pants around his ankles yet again, only this time he had a big, gorgeous hunk of a man knelt between his legs. Strong, calloused hands held his thighs apart as his boyfriend licked and sucked and groaned around him with near feverish delight. The young soprano arched and bucked up into the hot orifice with low, eager moans as one hand buried in the short scruff of brown hair, tugging at it eagerly. Dave's finger had been rubbing gently at his entrance for the past couple of minutes, working up his courage, and when it finally slid inside Kurt let out a low wail of pleasure at the unexpected intrusion.

Dave was suddenly pulling his head back whilst stilling his hand at the same time, which made Kurt buck and wriggle his hips in a frustrated manner.

"Kurt?" He sounded nervous. A tongue darted over his lips in a little flicker. "Are you okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Dave, I swear to god if you stop now we are never having sex again!" Kurt barked, twisting his hips sharply against his hand and hissing when it went just that little bit deeper.

"Oh."

With that single word, he bent his head and got straight back to work, making Kurt writhe eagerly under his hands and delicious tongue.

A few minutes and another finger later, Kurt was gasping and arching and wriggling with eager moans and strings of curses leaving his lips.

"Oh _god_ David, so good! So, _so_ fucking good! Don't you _dare_ stop, you filthy, filthy little _slut_!"

Quite suddenly, those fingers crooked against something that sent sparks of electricity shooting all over his skin. Kurt threw his head back and shrieked in a mixture of shock and delight. Before he knew what was going on he was shooting his seed into Dave's mouth in short, sharp bursts, almost sobbing as he released.

Falling silent, the smaller boy fell back on the sheets and lay there, trembling violently. His legs were twitching uncontrollably even as Dave licked him clean, having gotten over his initial surprise at his sudden climax. The big hands were stroking his thighs with his usual gentleness, making him quiver all the more. Kurt made a few weak noises and tugged his hair a little bit, drawing Dave up over his body once more. The big man kissed him slowly and sensually as he caught his breath back. When his trembles stopped, Kurt drew back and smiled weakly.

"Your turn, big guy. Sit back and spread those legs for me."

Some time later, the two sweaty, naked bodies were twined around one another, snuggling as close as they could for warmth. Kurt was the first to speak.

"That was amazing, David," he sighed, nuzzling his broad chest contentedly.

"Yeah. It really was."

He looked down at the boy curled in his chest and idly thought to himself that he would one day go all the way with this beautiful singer. Sucking each other off had been as hot as hell, and he frankly couldn't wait to do it again. From the way Kurt enthusiastically went down on him, he couldn't either.

"Mind if I sleep for a little bit?" Kurt asked absentmindedly, kissing at his collarbone in an intimate manner.

"No, not at all. Go ahead. But, umm..."

"Mmm? What's wrong, David?"

Dave was blushing a little bit when he spoke. "Can I get Pork Chop off the floor now? It's kinda dusty under there and I don't want him to get dirty..."

Kurt sighed and rolled to one side, letting his bones sink into the mattress instead of on Dave. The big guy was already scrambling under the bed for the stuffed animal.

He didn't mind sharing his boyfriend with the toy, but he couldn't help but grin as he thought of ways to slowly but surely replace the huge pink pig – and _damn_, he'd love playing out every single one of his schemes.

* * *

**A/N:** So this, was a little bit weird and obscure, but this was just what popped into mind. I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are appreciated!


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